A Marvellous Christmas
by latessitrice
Summary: Three Christmas stories based on prompts I received. The first is Tasertricks, the second two Wintershock. Only the last earns the Mature rating. The rest is pure fluff!
1. Chapter 1

**This is the first of three Christmas-themed fics based on prompts I received. The second prompt shown here is only very loosely covered - I was going to do a separate fic but ran out of time. The second story will be posted tomorrow (Christmas Day) and the final one the day after. They are both Wintershock (Darcy/Bucky). Merry Christmas everyone, and enjoy whatever you do/don't celebrate at this time of year.**

 **Beta reading by trixietropical and linesthatenlace . Thanks ladies!**

 **Prompt One: Tasertricks - Fluffy, grumpy Loki in a Christmas jumper and antlers. Because Darcy said so.**

 **Prompt Two: Fluffy prompt. Naughty times, Mistletoe.**

* * *

"I hate you."

"No you don't."

"I can assure you that I most certainly-"

"Say cheese!" Darcy interrupted, before Loki got into a full-blown rant.

She squinted at the photo she'd just taken of the grumpy-faced Asgardian, whose expression had been in the process of morphing into confusion at her command. Somehow, despite the Christmas sweater and headgear, he still managed to look vaguely regal.

"What in the nine realms does cheese have to do with any of this?"

"It's a thing people say." She was uploading the photo to Instagram as he grumbled. "Come on, keep going. The whole point of having a tall person around the place is so they can help hang the Christmas decorations."

"Really? I thought I was here to supply you with sparkling conversation and orgasms."

"You've yet to provide a sparkling orgasm, but if you hang that tinsel over the bed it might be a good place to start."

"As my mistress commands." He gave a mock-bow and disappeared into the bedroom, while she watched the likes stack up on her photo. Not bad, though not as popular as the one she'd posted of him drooling in his sleep.

Man, she hoped Loki never discovered Instagram.

She surveyed their handiwork so far. Admittedly, she went overboard at this time of year, but winter in New York was cold, dark and brutally long. She liked the glitter of festive decorations and they helped her make it through to spring. That was why she'd cleared Target and the Disney Store out of most of their early stock.

Besides, Loki didn't really understand the traditions. It meant it was really easy to feed him any old bullshit. "But Loki, you have to wear the glittery antlers! They honour our fallen ancestors!" and "Men are supposed to buy their loved one a gift for each of the twelve days of Christmas, just like the song, but with more Cartier." That was also how she'd persuaded him that he was going to have to work his way through the stack of ugly sweaters she'd purchased.

She hadn't told him about the Jack-Skellington-as-Santa costume she was making him wear to the Avengers Christmas party yet.

"The tinsel is hung," he announced, striding back into the living room. "Much like myself," he added with a snicker, and she couldn't fight her answering grin even as she rolled her eyes at him. "If it's sparkling orgasms you're after, I've heard that mistletoe is another fine Midgardian tradition at this time of year."

"Dude, no. There are stories about you and mistletoe that don't end well." He frowned at her, the reference lost on him because he'd refused to read any Norse mythology, since it all cast him as the bad guy. "Besides, you don't need mistletoe to convince me to kiss you."

He smiled widely. "Excellent." It might have a been a sexy smile if Rudolph's nose on his sweater wasn't blinking rapidly. Instead he looked...cute.

Well, damn.

"We should get a picture together," she proposed. "Let me find my antlers."

It took two minutes to retrieve them from their position wedged under the packing boxes, and then she had to wrangle Loki back towards the fireplace. She was lucky that her apartment was old enough to have one, even if she couldn't use it because the grate had been boarded up years ago. Still, it was nice to have somewhere to hang stockings from.

"You have to smile," she instructed as Loki wound his arm around her waist. He'd picked up the habit of duckfacing from Norns-knew-where. He shot her a pained look.

"Are you going to share this image with other people?"

"Sure am."

"In that case, I don't think it's appropriate that I smile."

"What, because it hurts your public image? Think of all the people who are going to see you looking happy and it will completely grind their gears."

He didn't look convinced.

"Alright then. We can get a copy printed for Hel to pass on to your mom. Wouldn't she want to see you like this?" She knew she had him there; he covered up his quick flash of longing with a grumpy frown and nodded.

"This needs more atmosphere." He gently tugged her away from the fireplace, and with a few quick movements of his hands, got an actual fire going.

"Woah. See, this is way better than your sparkling conversation-"

"But not the orgasms?"

"-except my landlord is going to kill me."

"It is merely an illusion. The fire doesn't produce any smoke or heat."

"Oh. Cool!" She'd thank him properly later. She snuggled back into his side, handing him the phone for him to take the photo. His longer arms were another benefit he brought to the relationship. "Get ready to smile."

And mercifully he did, at least on the first photo. For the second, he surprised her by kissing the tip of her nose, and for the third, her mouth. "You said I didn't need mistletoe."

"I did." She stretched onto tiptoes and returned the kiss. She took the phone back and scrolled through the photos, squealing when she saw the first one. He was smiling, but he wasn't looking at the camera. He was looking down at her, like a living embodiment of the heart eyes emoji. "Okay, no one else gets to see this photo but your mother. It's too cute and worlds will burn."

He frowned again, but she could tell it was to avoid grinning at her reaction. Instead, he dipped down to scoop her up. "I believe I owe you a sparkling orgasm."

She shook her head and nuzzled into his neck. "Later. Let's just stay and enjoy the fire for a while. Snuggle up with eggnog. I might even let you take the sweater off."

He dropped to his knees, onto the fluffy throw which hadn't been there before, and when she was cosey, handed her a goblet which smelled distinctly nutmeggy. He held out one of his own to clink with hers. "Merry Christmas, Darcy Lewis."

"Merry Christmas, love of my life."

"Lord of your loins?"

"And pain in my ass."


	2. Chapter 2

**Fluffy prompt: Baby's first Christmas.**

* * *

"Is she sleeping?"

Darcy started. She hadn't heard Bucky walking up behind her, but then she never did. She'd told him a thousand times not to creep up on her, and he swore he wasn't doing it on purpose.

She turned to find Bucky leaning against the door jam, staring at the crib where their daughter lay. "Yeah, I just got her down."

"You should rest."

"I'm good. She slept for hours today and Jane had her for a few hours too." She rose from the chair to tiptoe the few steps towards him. He opened his arms for a hug, though his gaze never left the crib. He'd been like that a lot over the past few weeks.

It had been a strange year.

"I got her something," he mumbled into Darcy's hair. "I know she won't appreciate it yet, but when she's a little older…"

Darcy tipped her head back so she could see his face, the equal parts trepidation and hope he wore. He was still adjusting. She was too, but for him this was a complete one-eighty from where he'd thought his life was going. "Can I see it?" she asked.

He nodded, but before they left the room he crossed to the crib, bending over to the brush the lightest of kisses onto Becca's forehead. Then he led Darcy to the living room.

His boots were abandoned beside the door, his jacket tossed across the back of a chair, and she rolled her eyes. House training him was still a work in progress. At least there wouldn't any weapons in the things he left lying around anymore.

He was examining the decorations in the living room, the ones she'd managed to throw up while Jane watched Becca. She'd intended to have a theme, or colour scheme, or something tying it all together, but in the end it was a mismatch of items she'd scrounged from their friends and her mother's loft.

"I tried," she said with a shrug.

"It looks beautiful," he replied, gracing her with her own forehead kiss. "Feels like home."

She beamed at that, tucking herself into his side. "So what did you get her?"

"Uh…" She glanced up at him when he hesitated, watched him try to run his fingers through the hair he'd recently cut short. "It's nothin' special. But it's all we used to have when we were kids, so I thought…"

"Go on." She nudged him in the side, and he paused before rifling through his jacket pockets, retrieving a brown paper packet. He unfolded it on the table to reveal a little red felt stocking, trimmed with white fleece, and with Becca Barnes stitched onto the front in green.

"There's this little craft store in Williamsburg that had them hung in the window and they caught my eye. The lady inside said she'd add the name for a little extra. We used to have them hung over the fireplace in our apartment."

"It's adorable!" She beamed up at Bucky. "I know we don't have a fireplace here, but when we move we can look for a place with one."

His relieved smile made her melt a little inside. Sometimes it took a lot of encouragement to convince him that he was doing the right thing, had made the right choice, and since Becca had arrived he'd retreated back into hesitation and diffidence.

He'd been so hesitant with her from the start. She'd had to do all the chasing, even to get him to be her friend, encouraged by Steve who didn't want Bucky to be so isolated. It had taken months for Bucky to admit that he wanted more from her, and more months still before she'd convinced him that it was okay to act on that. And then he'd insisted on being the gentleman Steve protested he'd never been before the war…

Hydra were the ones who'd thrown a spanner in the works. Bucky's file had listed him as being sterilized when he was captured, one of the reasons Bucky had tried to distance himself from her. He couldn't give her a family, and they'd had several heartfelt conversations before she'd eventually convinced him that she was okay with that, because she'd rather have him than nothing at all.

Except super soldier healing apparently reversed vasectomies and you should always use condoms if you aren't completely sure. A couple of months after first sleeping together, the slow-burn shuffle of their friendship into romance was suddenly shunted onto fast forward. Then here they were a week before their first Christmas together with a month-old baby and a too-small apartment.

"I got you something too," Bucky continued.

"I'd hope so! You know, Christmas hasn't changed all that much," she teased. "Gifts are still a requirement between romantic partners."

"It's not really a Christmas gift and I, uh, kind of wanted to sound out the idea before I gave it because you might not want it-"

She raised an eyebrow at him. "This is sounding kinky."

He huffed at her and she shut up. "I know that a lot of things are different nowadays, and people are okay with being together without making things official, and that's okay, this isn't because I'm hung up on tradition or anything. But we're a family now, and I _like_ that we're a family. I know we're still learning how we fit together, but I love you and I want us to be a permanent thing-and I think that no matter how much how I learn about you, it's not going to change my mind, not after all we've been through together, and-"

God, he was adorable when he rambled. And adorable wasn't the kind of description you used about an ex-assassin with a metal arm lightly. She cut in to save him from himself. "Bucky, did you get me an engagement ring?"

He stopped, mouth hanging open as he processed her stealing his moment. "Maybe?" he finally replied, hedging his bets based on her reaction to the idea.

"Oh, thank god, finally!" She threw her arms around his neck and hugged him.

"Was I supposed to?" he murmured into her hair.

"If you knock a girl up, it's still good manners to suggest it. Especially if she's the love of your life." It wasn't like he hadn't called her that before they ever got horizontal.

"The twenty-first century makes my head hurt," he moaned, and she giggled. "But there are some benefits to it." He pulled away to kiss the tip of her nose.

"Me?"

"You. Becca. Pizza delivery. In that order," he added in a rush when she squeezed his hip. "Maybe a tie for the first two."

"Good save." She kissed him back. "So when do I get to see this ring?"


	3. Chapter 3

**Prompt: "I'll be home for Christmas".**

* * *

Darcy had always assumed that when Bucky returned from missions the sex would be fast, hard, demanding. She'd had fantasies of him striding into the apartment full of intent, accidentally crushing furniture between his metal fingers, fucking her up against the walls while she screamed. Imagined he'd need to work out the last of the adrenaline, to make the switch back from supersoldier to civilian, and she'd be the lucky recipient.

These are the things she'd imagined before they got together, things she'd never expected to experience as she mooned over the silent, brooding but _ridiculously_ pretty man as he skulked around the tower.

As it turned out, there was a lot more to him than she'd ever expected. Like his quick sense of humor, his love of screwball comedies, his dancing skills, and that dirty, dirty laugh.

She'd also been very, very wrong about the post-mission sex. Not that she was anticipating it any less.

 _"I can't believe they're making you go to freaking Siberia on December 19th!"_

 _"Darce, it's not like the bad guys take a Christmas break."_

 _"Well, they should! They probably have minions who'd really like to spend the holidays with their family."_

 _"That's the plan. We go in there, we shut this cell down, everyone gets some well-earned rest. Even the minions. Don't pout at me sweetheart, orders are orders. Steve can't show me any favoritism."_

 _"You're just doing this so you don't have to go to dinner with my mom."_

 _"Darcy, I swear I'm going to be home for Christmas, okay? Even if I have to arm-wrestle every member of this cell myself, I will be back in time."_

 _"Your arm never gets tired, so that would be kind of cheating."_

 _He frowned at her. "It's not a game of poker."_

 _"Okay, okay. But do you solemnly swear it? You'll be back for Christmas?"_

 _"I swear it on Stark's life."_

 _"Not good enough. You can't stand the guy. Swear it on your trading cards."_

 _He glared for a moment. "Fine. I swear, on my extremely rare, extremely mint condition 1930s baseball cards, that I will be home in time for Christmas. Now shut up and kiss me goodbye, I need something to keep warm out there in the snow."_

But what do you know, it was five to midnight on Christmas Eve and he was nowhere to be found. Darcy had found out-via Jane, since she was higher up the food chain and got messages that Darcy didn't-that the team were on their way back. They'd been expected to land a few hours ago, and there'd been no word explaining the delay. Darcy would have been googling the value of the card collection and deciding what to spend it on, if she hadn't been so freaked out.

What if they'd been ambushed on their way home?

Three minutes to midnight, and she left her vigil by the window to raid the fridge for the last of the eggnog. There was still no sign of the team returning to the tower, and normally she'd see them arriving to land before Bucky reached their apartment. She needed nutmeggy gooeyness to soothe her.

Two minutes to midnight, and she heard the hum of the retinal scanner coming to life.

She dashed over to fling the door open without even checking the video feed to see who was outside. It was a good thing it was Bucky's arms she flung herself into.

He told her as much. "What if I'd been Rumlow?" he grumbled as he carried her back into the apartment, swinging the door shut behind them with his foot.

"He'd come through the window," she replied. "He has no manners and-"

Bucky silenced her with a kiss.

Yeah, there was no aggression in post-mission Bucky, but there was desperation, a kind of raw hunger for contact that belied the vulnerability he normally worked so hard to hide. He carried her to the table and set her down, but didn't stop kissing her, his mouth greedy over hers as he cradled her face.

"You taste like nutmeg," he murmured when he finally broke away, though his attention only shifted to the bare skin of her neck.

"Where were you?" she asked, arching her head back to give him better access.

He ignored the question, ghosting a path of barely-there kisses down towards her collarbone. She tilted her head back, knowing she'd get the answer later. For now, Bucky needed her, and she was happy to give him whatever he wanted.

"Missed you," he breathed into her neck. "You're warm...and soft." He hummed, a little sound of contentment that made her belly swoop. Happiness that couldn't be contained.

She wanted to make an off-color joke about things that weren't soft, but she'd learned that his usually ribald humor vanished in moments like this. Instead, she focussed on the scratch of his scruff as his lips moved against her, and the fact that he'd returned to her in one piece.

He wasn't wearing all of his tactical gear, meaning he'd dumped it and his weapons before coming home. She was thankful, because it meant there were fewer barriers between them. She could feel the solid weight of his torso, the lines and contours beneath his t-shirt, the movement of his muscles as he shifted.

"Bedroom?" she suggested, and he nodded, stepping back to give her space to stand. Far from having her up against the wall, on nights like these he preferred something more traditional: being above her in their bed.

He kept one of her hands clasped between his as he led her through the doorway. The room beyond was dark, only a hint of streetlight fighting its way around the edges of the window blinds, but he didn't turn the overhead light on. Instead he pulled her into him again for one of those ravenous-yet-gentle kisses.

She was on tiptoe, arms looped around his neck, her fingers curling into the loose strands of his hair. Even without the tac gear, she could smell leather, and underneath it, smoke and sweat, too faint to be off-putting.

Clothes came off slowly, fingers exploring exposed skin. Bucky still favored his original hand, though Darcy never shied away from his metal arm. It felt good, cool against her flushed skin, an inevitability of how intense Bucky had become, how intent he was on acquainting himself with every inch of her. Not like he hadn't seen all of her so many times before, but he always made it feel like this was fresh and new.

When they were naked, when she was a blushing, heated mess, he laid her down. If she didn't know him so well, she'd say he wasn't as affected by this as she was. He seemed too calm. And yet, the signs were there, and she'd learned them all. The calm was a veneer, a mask he clung onto, betrayed only by his blown pupils, the tremor of his hand, the shudder of his breath as she wrapped her legs around him.

He drew out the moment even longer, kissing her until she was panting, all of it a delay until he had the control he needed to push into her. Darcy had figured it out. The gentleness was what he needed to ground himself, to be here with her and shed the horrors he'd seen, whether hours or years past.

She tilted her hips into his and he began to move with aching slowness, his hands clenched beside her head. She encouraged him with soft lips on the skin she could reach, gentle fingertips down his back. Eye contact, blissed-out smiles, muted sounds of pleasure.

Eventually he melted into her, the tension leaving his shoulders, though he kept the leisurely pace. He was able to return her smile and unclench his fists, to twine his fingers with hers. They weren't racing towards anything, just enjoying the moment, the feeling of being connected and bare to each other. And when the time came, Darcy's orgasm was as achingly sweet as the whole thing, the sweep of a gentle ocean swell rather than a riptide.

She curled into him afterwards. "You cut it awful close. Those cards were nearly mine."

He laughed and shook his head. "Not a damn chance."

"I had plans for that money."

"' _I'm so glad you made it home in time Bucky. It wouldn't be Christmas without you._ '" He stole another kiss. "I have access to your Amazon wishlist, I could just buy it all for you. Maybe I already did, but if this is the welcome I get…"

"One-you got plenty of welcome. My knees are still jelly after that welcome, thank you very much. Two-you did what?"

He shrugged. "You'll only find out if you sleep and let Santa do his job. It's already after midnight, if we don't give him time you might not get anything."

She gave him a suspicious stare but laid her head back on his shoulder. "I only got you one thing," she confessed. "You're going to make me look inadequate."

"I like spoiling you." He brushed her hair out of her face so he could see it. "And I got you. That's the best gift ever. I don't need anything else."

"Smooth," she mumbled into his shoulder, where she tried to hide her smile, her belly doing another leap of happiness. "Merry Christmas, Bucky."

He kissed her forehead and settled back into the pillow. "Merry Christmas, Darcy."


End file.
